


Copy Cat

by Winnywriter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-07
Updated: 2013-11-07
Packaged: 2017-12-31 18:08:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1034779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winnywriter/pseuds/Winnywriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel's Trickster powers come in handy for many reasons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Copy Cat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spooky_mulder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spooky_mulder/gifts).



> No plot. Just quick and dirty porn. Not proofread. Not edited. Just slapped on a page at 11 at night as the result of a Skype conversation with a very bad influence.

Sam is going to die.

 

It's late, the curtains are drawn, the room is hot and stuffy and silent except for helpless moans and pleased hums and the swipe of skin across sheets. Sam is flushed red and covered in a sheen of sweat, his heart pounding so hard he feels like he's in the middle of a marathon, and he knows he's going to die.

 

“Gabe...Je...Jesus, _Gabe..._ ” It's all he can manage; any other words get lost in a hopeless garble of syllables that trip past his lips on a groan. His fingers tangle in the archangel's sandy hair between his legs.

 

Those chapped pink lips release him with an audible pop, and Gabriel smirks at him. “Too much?” he asks, his tone betraying the fact that he already knows the answer.

 

Sam barely manages a shake of his head, and the mouth against his neck migrates to his mouth again, Gabriel's tongue tangling with his own and silencing him. The double swallows his desperate moan as Gabriel stretches his lips around his cock again and sucks hard.

 

Another copy is busy at his chest, tongue and teeth and lips skimming across his peaked nipples, chuckling as he does it. A fourth laps at his entrance, humming quietly as his tongue darts inside. Sam writhes on the sheets.

 

“I need...fuck...please...” He's not even sure how that sentence is supposed to end. Maybe that's it. He _needs._ Period. He feels like he's one fire. Gabriel – the original, Sam thinks. He's really not sure. He doesn't care, really. Maybe they're all the original, in some way or another. – spreads Sam's legs wide, nudging the copy who's been busy at his rim away and lining himself up.

 

Sam arches his back, the double at his chest pushing him down again and biting down on his right nipple just as Gabriel nudges inside, cock slick and hard and glorious. The copy still between his legs kisses up Sam's inner thigh, hand skimming up and down, soothing him with soft, loving touches. He groans into the mouth of the one playing with his hair and cupping his jaw.

 

His brain is short-circuiting, overheating, blazing. Every touch lights up his nerve endings until they're white hot. Even as one of them presses a kiss to his knee, it's a flood of sensation so intense it's a wonder he hasn't come already. It's a miracle he hasn't gone insane. Maybe he has. If that's the case, it's a perfectly blissful insanity.

 

Gabriel moves in slow, easy rolls of his hips, hands skimming up his sides. His fingers are everywhere, wrapping around Sam's erection, pinching his nipples, tangling in his hair and tugging his head back to expose his neck for an onslaught of kisses and love bites.

 

“Oh-” It's all he gets out before he's coming, shaking, the sheets soaked through with sweat. His muscles tense so tight Sam thinks he's going to snap, but he never does. The pressure builds and blazes, rushing out of him all at once, splattering white against his stomach and wrenching itself from his raw throat as a ragged scream.

 

He doesn't even realize Gabriel has come until he's slumping over Sam's body. Now it's just the two of them again, and Gabriel's arms wrap around him, his body draping over Sam's chest and his earn pressing against his collarbone.

 

It takes Sam longer than he'd like to admit to be able to form the words, “Trickster...” He grins. “Big plus...”

 

Gabriel chuckles and curls up beside him, fingers tracking up his chest, lips grazing against his jaw, bringing him down. “Definite plus,” he says.

 

His sweat cools, and he knows he'll be uncomfortable when he wakes up after a night of sleeping on damp sheets, but he's too satiated to care. The room is dim and pleasantly warm, and he closes his eyes and listens to the sound of Gabriel's breathing slowing against his skin. He smiles, a laugh rumbling in his chest, and falls asleep with a smile on his face.


End file.
